The Arya Initiative
by JenniferofHouseStark
Summary: Gradually becoming more than one shot. A black-skinned stranger with an eye patch arrives in Winterfell seeking an audience with Arya Stark...who is he and what does he want?
1. Chapter 1

Arya chewed her lip. One of the servants had come to tell her she had a visitor, and she was trying to suss out who it could possibly be as she slid Needle into its home at her side.

_Maybe they've got it wrong. Sansa is the Lady of Winterfell; they probably want to talk to her. _

Although conversation was not a strong point of Arya's- she preferred fighting to greeting strangers to Winterfell- she would go down and see who it was.

_It can't possibly be someone from King's Landing. _

As she snatched the old coin that Jaqen H'ghar had given her once from under her pillow, her heart suddenly stopped.

_What if it IS him? What if he wants to show me how to change my face?_

As she flung the door open and the sounds of talk and smell of the kitchens came to her, she dismissed the thought.

_It couldn't be. He doesn't know where Winterfell is… but that wouldn't stop Jaqen. _

Her footsteps were silent as she flitted down the corridor.

_Light as a feather._ The memory of Syrio Forel brought her to a halt, when she suddenly remembered Beric Dondarrion brought back from the dead, reborn in the flames of the Lord of Light.

_That was far too long ago. He would have found me sooner. A master would never leave his pupil untaught. _

She continued to run.

As she went past a tapestry hung upon the wall, she stopped once more. The Direwolf was Grey, like the Stark Sigil, but the skills of the weaver had been so masterful that it appeared white in the light of the moon suspended in the upper corner.

_What if it's JON? _As she ran even faster, her heart flying, she could feel his warm hand mussing her hair, his smile as he had given her Needle, his voice when he had told her to stick them with the pointy end.

As she neared the bottom of a staircase, through a window the shadow of a raven streaked across her face. She remembered the last raven they had received. It had said Jon had been elected the new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and she knew Lords were far too busy doing Lord things to bother visiting sisters.

But yet as she neared the Great Hall, where someone unknown awaited her arrival, there was a voice within whispering_ he's coming home where he belongs. _

_You'll find out in a moment. _

She placed both hands on the enormous oak doors and they swung open with a mighty groan, announcing her arrival.

The Great Hall was well lit, with a roaring fireplace burning merrily away. In front of it stood…well…he was not Jon Snow or Jaqen H'ghar.

_Syrio had dark skin like him, but his is much darker. He's even got Syrio's bald head. _

She took a few tentative, silent steps. The doors shut with a thunderous _boom. _

They were alone.

Whoever he was, he looked unlike anything Arya had ever seen before. For a moment she took him for a man of the Night's Watch, for he was dressed all in black. But as she neared him she realised he did not wear the furs required for life on the Wall. She couldn't quite say what material it was he wore for a coat, but it looked more like leathery skin than anything else. The boots on his feet were even more foreign. _Do they really dress like that in the Free Cities? _

He had to be from beyond the Narrow Sea. No one in Westeros dressed like that.

_He might even be from beyond the Jade Sea. _

The feeling of wonder was quickly overshadowed by suspicion, and she placed one hand safely on Needle's hilt.

As if he had been waiting for this action, the stranger turned to face her. It was then that Arya saw he wore an eye patch. Sprouting from beneath where his eye should have been were scars shaped like the veins on her wrist.

_Perhaps Beric Dondarrion took his eye, and he took Beric's in return. _

The eye that stared at her was hard but respectful. When he opened his mouth to speak Arya heard an accent that she doubted was from beyond even the Jade Sea.

"Arya Stark?"

It had a certain edge to it, whereas people in Braavos had elegant, curving accents and those Westerosi-born spoke as plainly as the land. This voice was completely different. It sounded as if it had spoken a War entirely on its own.

"Yes? Who are you?" She made a reply, hoping she sounded as unforgiving and wise as he did. Yet she couldn't escape her excitement at the same time.

"My name is Nick Fury," He explained, as her heart quickened,

"I am here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative."


	2. Chapter 2

It's been weeks, as I've been preoccupied with other things... but here at last is another excerpt from Arya's initiation into SHIELD! These are not in chronological order. I just get ideas for shots, they might be one sentence or conversation between characters, and they develop into what is the actual writing. :)

* * *

The cell was dank and dark like the mournful passages of Harrenhal. Arya remembered when she had been the Ghost there, killing with a whisper.

She was looking at a deathly pale man with black hair, who was sitting in the cell against one wall with a chain around his neck like a dog. If he was any relation to any of the Westerosi houses, she would have guessed at House Baratheon, by the inky hair. But the cruel grin in his eyes was too much like Cersei Lannister. Either way he was certainly not a Stark, not like the one called 'Tony' claimed to be.

_Not a Wolf. They can't be chained. _

He raised his head and stared back at her. When his eyes met hers, he gave an unnerving _heh heh heh _and rolled his head back, as if her presence was funny. _Needle won't find it as funny._ His voice was oddly soft, but in it there was a lie. It reminded her of how Joffrey had spoken to Sansa at first, back when her sister thought he was wonderful. Before he had choked.

"The assassin could not break me. The director could not. Neither could the metal man, the monster or the archer. So now they send me a child."

_I'm no child, _she wanted to say. She didn't like the way he stared at her. The name that the fair-haired God had told her matched this man perfectly. It would sound even better in her nightly prayer.

"Valar Morghulis." Her voice was barely audible, but he seemed able to hear her thoughts.

"How poetic. Does this little curse carry any meaning?"

"All men must die."

"I sincerely hope that does not apply to me."

"You're a man aren't you?"

"Unique among all others."

"Valar Dohaeris," She muttered, not caring if he heard her. Again came the questioning. And again she answered. "All men must serve."

"All men must serve?" The dark eyes glinted as the mouth twisted into a smile. "Now _that _I like."


	3. Chapter 3

The table was made of pure glass, and strange lights flickered across it, reminding Arya of fire. With her permission, Nick Fury had brought her away from Winterfell, into some vessel of sorts. When the gangplank lowered in front of her, she had strained her eyes trying to see the men operating it, but couldn't.

_This thing moves by itself. _It wasn't made of brick, or wood, like a ship, but appeared to be made of iron, or steel. _A floating palace of armour. That can't be possible. _When she took an unsure step onto it, it was cold and smoother than anything she had ever worn. And so _clean. _Fury had entered behind her, and the platform had begun to rise. In the soles of her feet she could feel vibrations and things moving, making it work. Before her was a vast, dark space, with the spotless round desk in the centre. Lights suddenly sprang from nowhere. With no one to turn them on visible anywhere, Arya just _knew _she was in the presence of sorcery. All she could do was stare wordlessly around her.

"Have a seat, Arya," Fury told her, "I'll be right back with the people you'll be working with."

With a few long strides in those heavy boots, he was gone, leaving Arya to stare suspiciously at the small lights that seemed to _live _in the table.

* * *

From behind the double mirror, Earth's Mightiest Heroes watched the Daughter of Wolves. They were silent for the most, until the door opened and Fury told them they could now meet her. As they made their way down the corridor, Natasha Romanoff could not get the image of those young eyes out of her head.

_That traumatised girl has killed. I know it. _

With every step they drew nearer to what Fury believed was the missing link. All Agent Romanoff believed was that this was a mistake.

* * *

Arya stared at all these strange new faces. Her own expression was blank, revealing nothing, but inside she was buzzing. Three of them had weapons on their person, and one a shield. She placed a hand faithfully on Needle's hilt, and her heartbeat calmed.

"Hold it, kid," A man with a bright circle on his chest said, "It's as if Fury doesn't trust us, do you?" Then he said with a laugh, "Tony Stark," before offering her a hand.

"Stark?" Her ears pricked. A tiny spark of hope awakened in her, but then it turned to stone when she remembered the horror of the Red Wedding. "Did you know my Father, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell?"

"Uh, was he a scientist or billionaire playboy?" The voice was not mocking, exactly, but it was not sweet either.

"What in seven hells is that?" She asked.

"Stark, leave her be." The woman who had spoken had red hair like Sansa's. She was tall as the men and silently slipped in amongst them.

"Agent Romanoff," Her voice was low but casual. She did not offer Arya a hand the way the Stark man had. She appeared to be more comfortable with her fingertips near the knife she kept at her side.

"Did you know my Father? He," Arya pointed a finger at the man, who drew his hand back with a bemused look, "Says he is of House Stark but hasn't even been to Winterfell. I bet he doesn't even know our words. Father followed the Old Gods. Do you follow the Seven?"

Tony looked at Natasha with an eyebrow raised, then turned his attention to one of the other men.

"Asgardian," He called, "She sounds like somebody from your neck of the woods."

Arya turned to look at the enormous man who made his way over to her. The hammer he carried was unlike any she had ever seen Mikken use, but this one looked like a Smith of great skill. Strange then, that he should wear a red cloak, as if he were a lord.

"Do you follow the Seven?" She asked.

"Child, I am of Asgard. I am Thor, Odinson."

_I'm not a child, _Arya thought before replying,

"I haven't heard of the Odinsons of Asgard," She went over all the house names of Westeros she could remember, "Are you from the North or South?"

"Asgard lies at the end of the Bifrost, above Midgard, which is where we now stand. Odinson means I am the son of Odin, and Asgard is not just one house, it is the realm where my people have lived since time itself began."

Arya tried to go over it all in her mind.

"And you," She looked once again at the loud black haired man, "Are you of House Stark or not?"

"Uh, yeah, my last name is Stark. But there's nowhere in America called Winterfell… it actually sounds quite Canadian."

With a frown, she turned away from him. His life was probably like some song that Sansa loved so much. She preferred the woman who dressed all in black, the one who reminded her of a spider. Or the man who left his arms exposed, holding a bow and a pack of arrows slung over his back.

"What's your bow made of?" She asked him. His narrow eyes gave no emotion, like Romanoff's.

"Titanium," He replied, in the same strange accent that they all seemed to have, apart from Thor, who was probably the easiest of them to understand.

"Is that something to do with Wildfire?" She asked, confused.

"Even if I knew what the difference was between Wildfire and normal fire, I'd say probably not. All I need to know is how to shoot and how to reload," He replied, "My name is Clint Barton, and this is Dr. Banner and Steve Rogers."

She looked at Banner, the quite one with curly brown hair, who seemed very modest in comparison to the brightly dressed Rogers.

"Bruce Banner, Miss," He said with a polite smile. And that was it. His eyes flickered to her hand on Needle. When she loosened her grip on her sword, she noticed his shoulders drop slightly, as if he had released a great burden. There was something about him she could not see. Perhaps it was better she didn't.

"I thought I'd wait until these guys were done before I introduced myself," Steve Rogers said to her.

"Those are colours of House Tully," She said instantly, "Did you know Catelyn Stark?"

"There she goes with that House thing again," Tony said to Thor, "D'you think Westeros is some kind of major realtor agency? Could they get me a place in Barbados? I'm kinda hung up about what to get Pepper for her birthday…"

"Stark, please," Rogers interrupted, and bizzarely, Tony did stop, with a hint of respect and a smile. "Miss Stark," He continued, "You're probably wondering why Director Fury has brought you here today. We need your help. You said earlier about your House having words, as such. What are those words, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Winter is coming," Arya replied, already feeling strengthened by the memory of Winterfell.

"Well, the Starks aren't wrong about that. What do you know of a person called The Winter Soldier?"


	4. Chapter 4

Arya twisted the coin around her fingers. She had known nothing of the Winter Soldier, much to the cynicism of Tony Stark. After the meeting had been dispersed, Fury had told her she would be meeting him soon. Apparently they had him imprisoned like Loki. She wondered if he would be anything like Loki, with that icy, poisonous smile. It made her uneasy. It reminded her of the small smile Joffrey had made when he told Ilyn Payne to take her Father's head.

"Is vengeance _not _how these Freys are to meet their end?" Loki's voice was echoing in her head. "All the Agents of SHIELD will do is prate and talk about honour and life, uncaring of whether justice is served or not. You have been wronged, Arya of House Stark. As have I. Join me."

"Loki," She whispered. "Joffrey, Cersei, Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling, Ilyn Payne, The Mountain, The Hound."

"How did it go with Loki?" A woman's voice made her look up. Natasha Romanoff was stood before her, looking down at her with an emotionless expression. Arya didn't know what to say. Instead she looked at Romanoff's red hair. _Like Sansa's. Like Mother's. _

"He has that effect on people," The woman was not unkind. "Were those other names you were saying just now?"

"Names on my list," Arya replied sullenly.

"What's going to happen to the people on this list?"

Arya looked up at her.

"They're going to die."

_She should not be here. Loki has done something to her. The Soldier will make it worse. _

Natasha couldn't take her eyes off that look the Stark girl wore. She had worn the same look herself when living with the other orphans.

_This one is an orphan as well. How will she react?_

"Do you have a family?" She asked with caution, "Anyone to watch over you when you leave here?"

"No."

"Arya…"

"I don't need anyone watching over me. I've killed people, I've left them dying and bloody, and I've switched faces to do it."

Natasha didn't know what switching faces meant, but it must have been an awful thing for someone to show a child how to do it, and then be as bitter as Arya. "I bet you don't have any family either," Arya sneered, "Do you?"

"No." Natasha's response was immediate, as she had trained herself to do. She no longer whispered _I have him_ or thought of the other girls she had practiced ballet with.

"I have red in my ledger because I have killed. More than you could put on a list. They call me the Black Widow. And you are going home."

"Loki said all SHIELD would do is prate about life and honour," Arya spat, "I'm beginning to think he was right."

"You're a fool if you believe anything that snake says."

"I'm no fool. I'm Arya of House Stark, and I'm quick as a snake."

That last remark intrigued Natasha.

"Show me."

Without a second to spare Arya was on her feet, her blade drawn. It was as thin as she was, casting a tiny slither of light across the floor.

"Nice sword."

"It's called Needle. Everyone I've killed has dies by its edge."

"You'd better make sure no one takes it from you." Natasha was perfectly still. Her deft fingers were one flick away from having her knife. As small as Arya was, as agile as she looked, a bite from a Widow would draw blood all the same.

They moved to strike each other.

Arya wanted to cause pain. Natasha only meant to disarm her and prove her for the child she was. She grabbed Arya by the wrist, swung her off balance, wrenching Needle from her as she did. Arya made a few light skips, and was perfectly still again, balanced.

"Give it back," She said venomously.

Natasha threw it to her. Her right arm shot up like an arrow and caught the hilt without a sound.

"These people we have held here. They will not show you mercy or softness because you are young. They will kill you."

"My little brother was pushed out a window by a man who was fucking his own sister. My elder sister was beaten by men supposed to be knights. My eldest brother was stabbed to death at a wedding by his own banner men. My Mother had her throat slit by those same men. _Nothing you say can frighten me._ I will kill anyone who tries to stop me. Including you."

At that, the Black Widow came at her. Arya was knocked to the ground, her elbows being pinned down by the powerful limbs. But not before Needle had kissed her arm. A small stream of blood appeared on her arm, close to her veins.

"I mean you _no harm,_ Arya Stark of Winterfell," The Black Widow spoke harshly, and dangerously, "I am trying to keep you from being brainwashed by that Monster Loki and being dragged into the minefield that is SHEILD. I am on your side. I can see you are more than capable of defending yourself. But not against the powers I have seen."


End file.
